


Juxtaposition

by Green



Series: Conflict Resolution [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Forced Bonding, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Pre-Slash, Soul Bond, Unrequited Love, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 06:59:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green/pseuds/Green
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles must rely on Peter Hale to stay alive, but what if being alive means being soulbonded to the creepy murdering werewolf himself?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Juxtaposition

**Author's Note:**

> many thanks to majoline for looking this over.

Stiles is in so much pain that he barely registers the roar. His first thought is _Scott_ except it sounds much deeper. Derek, maybe? He opens his eyes. The world is blurry.

There's blood, and it isn't his. The witches are fighting back against just one werewolf, but Stiles doesn't know who. He can't focus. All he knows is that there are snarls and growls and the snap of teeth. Whoever it is can fight. It's not one of the betas, is it? They're too inexperienced to be able to take on four witches. 

It doesn't really matter. He's dying. The witches pulled the magic out of him and did something else, something that's killing him. They whispered something about his soul as they directed the youngest to work her magic on Stiles. After that, all Stiles knew was pain.

"Open your eyes, Stiles," a voice tells him. "Stay awake for me."

He thought his eyes were open but apparently they aren't. The light hurts when he forces them open. The sunlight is streaming in through the trees now. It's still hard to focus.

"Look at me. What did they do?" the voice asks. Stiles obeys and feels his eyes widen; it's Peter kneeling over him, his eyes glowing.

"Drained," Stiles says, and it hurts to force out words. He frowns and tries to remember what the witches had chanted. 

"Drained your magic. Okay. What else? You don't smell right," Peter says.

"Hurts," Stiles whispers. Peter lays a hand on his arm and Stiles can feel him try to pull the pain out, but nothing happens. It's not that kind of pain. Stiles can feel tears rolling down either side of his face. "Tell my dad-"

"Shh, you're not going to die, Stiles," Peter says. "I'm entirely too fond of you to allow that. Now tell me what they did to you so I can find a way to fix it."

"Something about my soul," Stiles mumbles.

Peter inhales sharply. "That's the scent. They dislodged your soul. They were going to drain that, too."

Stiles can only blink at him. It sounds ridiculous, but it explains why it hurts so badly. Another pain grips him and he cries out.

Peter takes out his phone and messes with it a moment before putting it to his ear and saying, "It's an emergency. A human soul has been dislodged, but the only way I know to fix that is-"

Then he's silent as the other person talks. Stiles wishes he had super hearing. How, exactly, do you fix this kind of thing? He needs … well, something to put his soul where it belongs. It needs to be anchored back into place. That's the only thing that makes sense, but the question is _how_.

"You're sure," Peter says into the phone, voice tense. "How long does he have? ...I see." He looks down at Stiles and winces. "Thank you." He puts the phone back in his jacket and frowns down at Stiles.

"What?" Stiles asks.

"We all took off in different directions to find you," Peter says instead of giving him a straight answer. "They're too far away to help. I'm the only one who can." He looks apologetic, though Stiles doesn't understand why.

"Gonna die, then," Stiles says with a snort.

Peter's eyes flash. "No, you aren't," he says.

"How're you gonna save me?" Stiles asks. Peter isn't the Alpha anymore, he can't give him the bite.

"I need you to trust me, Stiles," Peter says.

Stiles wants to laugh. "Are you serious? No way. Never."

"You'll die if you don't," Peter says, his voice intense. "I know you'd rather have anyone but me, but there's no time."

"Great," Stiles says. Then the pain gets to him again and he curls in on himself.

"Take my hands," Peter says urgently. "Stiles, you're dying. You have to trust me."

Stiles only has two options, and he doesn't want to die. He lifts his hands and lets Peter take them in his own.

Then Peter starts to chant. He sounds hesitant at first, but when a particularly bad pain hits Stiles he seems to gain confidence. He squeezes Stiles's hands and it _does_ help. Stiles feels somewhat reassured.

Their eyes meet as the pain begins to recede. Peter's gaze is intense as he finishes chanting, and Stiles feels … different. Full, like he's just eaten a big meal, only the fullness is in his chest. He feels sorry, too, like he's done something he shouldn't have. There's also something like possessiveness inside him, but it isn't scary like that sort of thing should be. It's weird how these emotions feel separate from himself and yet not. Stiles feels confused more than anything.

And tired. Stiles is so fucking tired now.

"Go to sleep. I'll take you home," Peter says, already picking him up into his arms. The only reason Stiles doesn't object is because sleep is tugging him down already.

* * *

He wakes up in his own bed, twitchy and restless. Scott is sitting in Stiles's desk chair, looking at him worriedly.

Stiles sits up and wonders why it's so easy to do so. He feels good and strong and not at all like he almost died. "Hey."

"I'm sorry I didn't find you," Scott says. "Isaac and me were looking on the other side of the Reserve."

"Hey, at least you were looking," Stiles says. "Isaac, too?"

"Our whole pack was looking for you, Stiles! You disappeared and we couldn't track your scent," Scott says, managing to make it sound like an accusation. 

Stiles raises his eyebrows. "Since when is Derek's pack yours?"

Scott makes a frustrated sound and runs his hand through his hair. "Since you went missing and I needed them." He takes a deep breath and looks at Stiles. "But... I'm sorry. About this whole thing. You wouldn't have been taken if not for me, and-"

"Shut up, Scott," Stiles says, smiling to soften the words. "They took me because I have magic. _Had_ magic, I guess." He holds his hand out, palm up, and tries to feel the tingle inside him that he's always had and only recently had a name for. There's nothing. He feels an aching loss now, like the part of him that was special has died and now he's just bland Stiles Stilinski, average guy.

"I know. Peter … he told us. He told us everything," Scott says, biting his lip.

"What aren't you saying?" Stiles asks. "What's 'everything'?"

"Do you remember what he did?" Scott asks, frowning. "Derek and Deaton say it was the only way, but that's gotta be wrong."

Stiles sighs and thinks back to when he was dying. He remembers Peter taking his hands and chanting, how suddenly Stiles felt _complete_. He shakes his head. "Only bits and pieces. Tell me." 

"Your soul was … loose, I guess is the word for it. You were losing it. You needed something to put it back and keep it where it belonged," Scott says.

"Yeah, I know that much," Stiles says. "So … what did Peter do?"

Scott looks like he might cry. Or maybe puke. "He bound you to him. Soul to soul."

Stiles isn't stupid. He knows exactly what that means. He knows. "Are you sure?" he asks, begging with his eyes for it not to be true.

Scott growls. "If it wouldn't hurt you, I'd kill him for it."

Stiles lies down again because his head is dizzy with questions and unfortunately, he already has most of the answers. He is soulbonded. To a murdering, back-from-the-dead werewolf. "Oh, fuck my life."

* * *

It's not that he wants to see Peter. It's not even that he wants to confront him. It's just that this bond, this stupid, ridiculous _soulbond_ , is compelling him to be near his bondmate.

Bondmate. Peter Hale. Stiles would laugh if the idea didn't make him want to cry.

He parks his Jeep in the middle of town and starts walking. There's a pull of his soul, a connection, and it's not hard to find the building where he knows Peter will be. It's a small apartment over the top of an empty store. When Stiles peeks into the windows of the store and sees what isn't covered with sheets is about a million books.

He goes around the back and climbs up the rickety steps to the apartment. Peter meets him at the door, and the expression on his face is hard to read. Stiles reaches out with his mind to figure it out and-

Peter's happy to see Stiles, and feels guilty that he feels happy, and is itching to reach out and touch Stiles, to put his scent on him, to _claim_ him.

Stiles blinks at the onslaught and reins in the emotions that aren't his. "Can I come in?" he asks, and all the anger he felt at the thought of Peter binding them together bleeds away when he feels Peter's utter _relief_.

The apartment is small but nice. It's nothing like Derek's new loft, which is cold and massive. This place is … homey. Comfortable. Stiles likes it.

"Thank you for coming," Peter says quietly. "Would you like something to drink?"

Stiles blinks. "You're weirding me out," he blurts.

Peter frowns and Stiles can feel his confusion and frustration. 

"You don't have to be nice to me," Stiles explains, and rolls his eyes. "So we're kinda married forever." He swallows a hysterical bubble of laughter. "Doesn't change anything, right?"

"Stiles..."

"It hasn't changed the way I feel about you; I still think you're a psycho creeper who can't be trusted," Stiles lies.

But Peter seems to catch on that Stiles needs this, needs to pretend that nothing has changed and that they're still … enemies. He says, "So you came all this way to tell me you still hate me? I'm touched." He holds a hand over his heart dramatically.

Stiles bites back a smile. "I don't know why I came. This bond thing is stupid."

"It was the only way to save you," Peter says. "I know it's not what you would have chosen-"

"You've got that right."

"-but you're alive, and that's what matters." Peter's emotions spike then, and Stiles stares at him.

"I don't get why you'd do it, though," he says. "You bound your soul to mine for the rest of your life. Why?"

Peter blinks. "To save you."

The funny thing (except it isn't funny at all) is that Stiles can feel Peter means it. "What do you get out of it?"

Peter waggles his eyebrows. "I can think of worse fates than to be bound to a nubile young-"

"Okay!" Stiles cuts him off, blushing. "Creeper."

Peter gives him a winning smile. "So you see it's not that bad."

But it is. It _is_. Stiles looks down at his hands and sighs. "I just wish I'd had a choice other than this or death. And now..." He swallows hard, not wanting to say the words.

"Now what?" Peter asks, sitting next to him. They are side by side, barely touching, but it calms Stiles. It's nice.

"They took my magic," Stiles says quietly. "The only thing I had and they took it from me."

Peter takes one of Stiles's hands with his own. The touch is soothing, and it makes Stiles want to purr like a cat. Stiles finds himself leaning against Peter now, closing his eyes and feeling the bond hum.

Peter says, "Magic isn't the only thing special about you. Why do you think I wanted to turn you? You're smart, resourceful, resilient, brave..."

Stiles looks at him and realizes suddenly how close they are. Peter's face is so near that he can feel his breath across his cheek. He's near enough to touch, to kiss.

Stiles pulls away, flushed and confused.

Disappointment and something like shame come across the bond from Peter.

"Don't," Stiles says. He frowns and squeezes Peter's hand before pulling away entirely. "I just can't. I can't." Then he gets up and leaves as fast as he can.

* * *

School is difficult when Stiles's mind is constantly on Peter. He can feel through the soulbond that Peter is fine, but he feels the need to see for himself.

At lunch, Isaac sits next to him without saying anything. Boyd joins them, equally silent. Erica grins at him and says, "If it isn't my favorite groom."

Stiles manages to smile. "Sorry you missed the wedding?"

Erica shrugs. "Glad you aren't dead, though. That would've sucked."

Again, Stiles is reminded that the soulbond saved his life. That _Peter_ saved his life. "Yeah."

"Could be worse," Erica says. "You could be soulbonded to McCall. Can you imagine?"

"Do what now?" Scott says, sitting down across from Stiles with his tray. 

Stiles snorts a laugh. He's not sure if it would be worse or not, but the thought of being tied together forever with his best friend makes him feel a little nauseated. Scott's … _Scott_. Stiles would never want to think of him so intimately. "That'd be a little like incest, I've got to say," Stiles says to Erica.

It makes him think, though. What if someone else had found him? Would they have known what to do to save him? Would they have given up their everything for him the way Peter had? Would he even want to be bonded with someone else?

Not that Peter's growing on him. He still hates him. Of course he'd rather be bonded to someone else. Just not Scott. 

He looks at Isaac as he eats, wonders if he would've decided to save Stiles. He has a full life ahead of himself, though. Isaac's been through enough shit, he doesn't need Stiles cramping his style, taking away his chance for happiness with someone. And then there's Boyd or Erica, who're obviously only into each other now. Stiles wouldn't want to get in the middle of that.

Derek had been out that night looking for him, too. What if Derek had been the one to find him? Stiles snorts. Derek would've let him die. Or...

In the past, Stiles has thought about Derek _that way_ , but only when he's absolutely alone, in the dark, and under the covers. Derek's sexy as hell, of course he has. But Derek's so moody and broody, not to mention hates him. Even if Derek had decided to save his life, the resulting soulbond would've been messy to say the least. Derek has more baggage than the claim at LAX and Stiles isn't about to attach himself to that. Not that he would have had a choice.

Not that Peter doesn't have his own emotional shit. But he's like Stiles, in a way, right? Put up a front and snark your way through it. Only Peter's killed people because of his shit, and Stiles never would.

"Stiles?" Isaac says, looking worried. "You okay?"

Stiles pushes his tray away and buries his face in his arms. He's soulbonded to a murderer. He'll never be okay again.

* * *

Stiles gets a text from Derek before school lets out. **Come over with the rest of the pack** is the first flat-out invitation he's gotten. He was planning on tagging along with Scott anyway, but now it's official. Stiles feels good about that, like he's a part of something.

He hopes Derek doesn't want him for his nonexistent magic. It'd be hard to explain in front of everyone that that part of him is gone for good.

Scott hitches a ride with him, and together they drive to Derek's place. 

Stiles can feel Peter as he gets closer to Derek's. He's filled with dreadful anticipation. 

"What's wrong?" Scott asks. "Your heart's going crazy."

"Peter's there," Stiles says.

Scott looks confused. "You're scared? I thought the thing made you guys like each other."

Stiles barks a laugh. Oh, if only that was the problem. "I'm not scared of him." More like terrified of his own feelings, and conflicted as hell over having them for Peter Hale of all people. And excited to see him again. Aching to touch. He groans to himself and tries to cut off that line of thinking.

They enter the loft and Stiles is immediately drawn to Peter, who is skulking in the shadows. Without thought, Stiles starts walking toward him, and Peter takes his own steps forward. They meet in the middle of the apartment, the rest of the pack looking on. But Stiles doesn't care about them, only wants to make the bond hum like it did when they touched before.

Peter looks hesitant again, and that's not right. Stiles takes one of Peter's hands between both of his own and brings it to his face. The bond practically sings. Stiles closes his eyes and loses himself in the feeling. Peter runs his thumb down Stiles's cheekbone. Stiles can feel everything he feels: awe with a glimmer of hope. Stiles doesn't understand the awe, but he gets the hope. Maybe this will work out between them. 

Maybe.

There's an embarrassed clearing of a throat, and Scott says, "Dude."

But Stiles is leaning in to the touch, craving more, and Peter is aching for him in the same way. Stiles doesn't have to open his eyes, he can feel how close Peter is as he leans in, ready to claim his mouth...

" _Dude_ ," Scott says.

"Peter!" Derek growls.

Peter steps away from Stiles and it's like a spell has been broken. Suddenly, Stiles feels all eyes on him, and his face burns with embarrassment and shame.

"Sorry," Stiles mumbles and gets as far away from Peter as he can. He sits in a chair in the opposite corner, not looking at anyone, wondering just what came over him.

But Peter doesn't leave well enough alone. Through the bond, Stiles suddenly feels Peter reassuring him. Like he's whispering _It's going to be okay_ in his ear. Stiles looks up and sees that Peter is smiling at him, a little soft and a lot sad.

Stiles suddenly doesn't want Peter to be sad. The man has had enough sadness in his life.

Derek starts talking before Stiles can examine that thought. "The witches are almost all dead. One got away while the others fought with Peter."

Why had no one told Stiles about this witch? He shudders, thinking about what they did to him. 

"I'm in contact with a coven a few towns over," Derek says. "They'll be on the lookout for the one that got away, and if they come across anyone dealing in dark magic, they've promised to let me know."

Derek looks at Stiles and Stiles wonders why. Then Derek says, "If we can catch her, my contact says there's a chance we can get your magic back."

Stiles grips the arms of the chair tightly. If he was a werewolf, he'd be clawing them right about now. "Really? What about the … other damage? Can we fix what they did to my soul?"

Derek glances at Peter and then back to Stiles. "I tried, Stiles. There's no way."

"Sorry to say you're stuck with me, darling," Peter drawls, though Stiles can feel his underlying hurt. 

The hurt makes Stiles angry. What right does Peter have to feel rejected? He should have thought about that before he made the choices he had. He killed Derek's sister, among others. His own niece! "Fuck you," Stiles says between clenched teeth.

"Any time you like," Peter says with a grin. It's fake, though, and he's feeling-

It doesn't matter. "Get your emotions out of me," Stiles says. "I feel bad enough without feeling your shit, too."

Peter blinks. "It's an effect of the bond. I can't turn it off."

"Great," Stiles mutters, sinking down further in his chair. At his moment, he wishes Peter had let him die.

"What the hell?" Erica says. "This is better than Days of Our Lives, I swear it is."

Stiles snorts. She grins at him and he can't help but smile back. She cares in her own way.

Jealousy twangs through the bond like a wrong note. Stiles looks at Peter again, surprised. He can't possibly think that he and Erica... No, he just wants Stiles to smile at _him_. He's jealous of how easy Stiles is with her, and wishes for the same. How Stiles knows this is beyond him, but it fits.

Peter shrugs and looks away. The meeting goes on, but Stiles finds himself drawn to Peter again and again. It's hard to stay away. He doesn't stop himself from watching the older man, though. 

Before he leaves, Derek looks like he wants to say something to Stiles. Stiles waits, a little impatient to get away, but Derek ends up just thudding Stiles on the back with a muttered, "Welcome to the pack."

Stiles is surprised, but at the same time not. Of course he's pack. He's the Alpha's uncle-in-law or something wacky like that. Uncomfortable, Stiles gets away.

* * *

"Stiles," Peter says, and Stiles jumps.

"What the hell are you doing here, in my room, in the middle of the night?" Stiles asks him. He should have felt him coming.

"You weren't sleeping," Peter points out.

Stiles feels about ten different answers to that pop onto his tongue, but he just shakes his head and sighs. It's good to be close to Peter again. It almost hurts when he isn't around. "I couldn't sleep."

"Why not?" Peter asks, sitting down on Stiles's bed.

"Did I say you could sit down?" Stiles asks. "Did I invite you in?"

"I'm not a vampire, I don't need an invitation," Peter says.

"Oh god, does that mean vampires exist?" Stiles asks. 

Peter grins. "I'll let you peek at my Bestiary if you give me a kiss."

Stiles narrows his eyes. He can feel Peter's playfulness along the bond, knows he's just kidding. But the thought of kissing Peter is pleasant and that pisses Stiles off.

Peter smiles like he can read minds and not just Stiles's emotions. "So what's keeping you awake, oh love of my life?"

Stiles groans. He really doesn't want to hear that particular L-word. There's another one that's enough trouble, and that's _lust_. "Can you just … not?" Stiles asks.

Peter's eyebrows raise and then he pats the bed beside him. "I want to talk to you. But first tell me what's on your mind."

Stiles tells himself that he doesn't have to sit with Peter. There's no reason on earth he should move from his desk chair to the bed. Except he wants to be closer, to feel Peter's warmth, to maybe touch (just a little) to appease the bond.

"I was wondering about my magic. What happens to me if I don't get it back," Stiles says, sitting in the exact spot Peter just patted.

"You went for years without it," Peter points out. "You did just fine then, right?"

"Yeah, but when I found out about it, I finally had a thing," Stiles says. "Scott and the rest of you have the werewolf thing and I had the magic thing. Now I feel like plain old nothing again."

"You're far from nothing, Stiles," Peter says, putting an arm around Stiles's shoulders.

Instead of moving away the way he knows he should, Stiles leans in and lets Peter hold him. It feels good, and he knows it makes _Peter_ feel good, too.

"So what did you want to talk to me about?" Stiles asks.

Now Peter is nervous. Hesitant. There's a little bit of fear mixed in with the rest of his emotions, as well. Stiles takes his hand and threads their fingers together. 

"You might as well tell me," Stiles says. "Is it bad?"

"I was married," Peter says quietly.

Stiles picks his head up and looks at him. "What?"

"Her name was Karen. We had a little boy named Noah," Peter says. His throat sounds tight. "He was two."

Oh, god. Stiles hasn't thought about who died in the fire beyond the fact that they were Hales. He hadn't cared about their names or who they were to Derek and Peter. Now he feels guilt for that, for not even thinking to ask.

"I lost them and all that filled me was the need for revenge," Peter says. "When I could think again, when I'd realized what I'd done... Stiles, you have to believe me, I never would have killed Laura."

He's telling the truth. Stiles can feel it, the way he can feel Peter is begging him for some kind of absolution.

"Why are you telling me this?" Stiles asks.

"I know what you think of me, how disgusted you were when you found out we were bonded," Peter says. "I want you to know, I wasn't always like this. I was a good man, once."

Stiles searches his face and reaches out through the bond for more answers. He feels Peter's remorse and his grief. "Do you think you can be that man again?"

Peter winces. "Too many things have changed. I'll never be who I was."

That's understandable. Peter lost his family, lost most of his life, then turned into a rampaging killer and hurt people without much thought.

Stiles understands more than Peter thinks he does. If someone had killed his dad, he'd want to kill them right back. He even thinks he has it in him to do so. He can't imagine losing a wife, a _child_. How much more powerful would his own revenge be in a similar circumstance?

Except.

"But you killed your niece," Stiles says quietly. "I can't... I can't understand that. I can't forget that."

"Neither can I," Peter says, frowning. "I'll never forgive myself for it."

"You did it for power," Stiles says, more a question than a statement.

Peter nods and doesn't look at him. He's miserable, soaking in guilt, but Stiles thinks he deserves to feel exactly that. Still, he doesn't defend himself, doesn't give an explanation. That put Stiles on edge.

" _Why_? What possible reason, what defense did you give yourself?" Stiles asks.

"All I cared about was revenge. Looking back, instead of looking forward." Peter shakes his head. "I wasn't in my right mind, but I should've stopped. I should've remembered it was _Laura_."

Stiles looks at their joined hands. The bond is urging him to do something, to ease Peter's pain. Stiles just sits there and stays quiet.

"You deserve better," Peter says. "I know you can never-"

"Shut up," Stiles says to cut him off. "Just shut up. We're stuck with this bond no matter how much I wish we weren't, and we might as well make it work."

"What do you mean?" Peter asks.

Stiles swallows and looks at him. Peter has clear eyes that Stiles could get lost in. They're beautiful even when they're full of pain. "I mean. We can be friends, right? At least."

"At least?" Peter says. 

Stiles huffs. "We both know where this is going. I don't like it, but it is what it is."

"If there was a way to break it, would you?" Peter asks seriously.

"Of course I would, what kind of question is that?" Stiles looks at their hands again. Peter's is slightly bigger, but not massive. They fit together like this. It's stupid, but it makes Stiles happy. He hates that it makes him happy.

Peter squeezes his hand. "You could have done worse than a devastatingly handsome, clever, powerful werewolf such as myself."

Stiles snorts. "You have an awful high opinion of yourself," he says, even though he knows it isn't true.

"Your own self-esteem isn't so good," Peter says. "That's okay. We'll work on it."

Neither of them think much of themselves, but Peter is better at pretending. "Fake it 'til you make it?" Stiles asks.

Peter grins, teeth very white. "Always."

* * *

The coven Derek is in contact with gets in touch a week later. They've found the remaining witch, the one who has Stiles's magic. 

Together, the pack plus Deaton formulate a plan. It's not too hard after that to catch her unaware and capture her. Deaton sighs and says, "I can't believe I'm in the middle of this. I'm supposed to _advise_ , not help kidnap evil witches and drain their magic."

The witch goes still and her eyes widen. "Please, don't, I-"

"Shut up," Peter snarls, advancing on her. "You took Stiles's magic, and he's getting it _back_."

Stiles moves quickly to stop Peter before he hits her. He steps in front of him and puts a hand on his chest. "Let Deaton handle this."

Peter is coiled like a spring but he looks at Stiles and nods shortly.

The transfer goes smoothly. It only takes some candles and some chanting before Stiles can feel the familiar tingle of his magic again. It's more, of course, not that he asked for the witch's magic on top of his own. But it's his now, his to work with. He has a feeling he'll need to get used to the extra power before he does anything with it.

"What do we do with her now?" Scott asks.

"Let me," Peter says, and Stiles knows he means to kill her.

Stiles clears his throat. "How about we let the coven deal with her? She's powerless now, but they'll be able to bind her, make sure she doesn't try stealing someone else's power." He looks at Derek, knowing it's his decision as Alpha.

"Stiles, she almost killed you," Derek growls. "She tried taking your _soul_."

"Yeah, I was there when it happened," Stiles says with a roll of his eyes. "I don't want her dead, okay?"

Derek just stares at him, incomprehension on his face. Then he shakes his head. "Okay. I'll call the coven, let them know."

The witch closes her eyes and bows her head. She looks utterly defeated. 

Peter is looking at Stiles now, his head tilted. "I wouldn't have shown mercy."

"Not your decision," Stiles says, pushing past him. He goes outside the witch's creepy old house (way to be a stereotype, witch!) and starts walking to where his Jeep is parked a block away.

He feels Peter follow. Stiles wishes he wouldn't. He wants to be alone. He's happy he has magic again, but he's just been confronted with the differences between him and his … soulbonded person. Soulmate? God, no. Bondmate is better.

"Why are you running away?" Peter asks.

Stiles whirls around to face him. "Why are you following me?"

"Because I'm devoted," Peter says, words dripping with sarcasm only Stiles can feel the truth of them.

Stiles moves close to face him. "Maybe I want to be left alone."

"I was worried, you know," Peter says. At Stiles's blank look, he goes on. "When you disappeared. I was fond of you before the bond."

Stiles winces, remembering Peter's offer to bite him. He feels his face flush at the memory, though, and something inside his chest flips over. "I remember."

"Maybe it was selfish of me, and maybe a part of me wanted it," Peter says. "But I didn't want you to die."

"You … wanted it?" Stiles asks. "The bond. The _soul_ bond."

"I'm aware of what it is, darling. You don't have to say it that way," Peter says.

"You _wanted_ it!" Stiles says, much louder this time. He beats his fist against Peter's chest. "How could you possibly... _Why_?"

Peter catches his hand and brings it to his lips for a soft kiss. Stiles loosens his fist. He's shaky; his knees feel like they're going to give out on him. Peter looks at him seriously. "I wanted someone of my own. I wanted … you."

Stiles narrows his eyes. "And you knew this was the only way you'd ever get me."

"Ouch," Peter says dramatically, but he means it. He's hurt. Stiles hates that he's hurt, hates that he caused it, but on top of that he's pissed off at what Peter's saying.

Stiles is the very definition of conflicted. 

"You said you'd give us a chance," Peter says.

"That was before I knew you'd planned this!" Stiles hisses.

Peter rolls his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic, dear."

"Don't be facetious!" Stiles yells.

Peter sighs and then his whole demeanor changes. He drops the smile and looks at Stiles seriously. "I didn't plan it. The opportunity arose and I took advantage. But it _was_ the only way to save your life. Would you rather I let you die?"

The truth is Stiles is glad to be alive. He'd even be grateful if only Peter was as miserable as Stiles is. But Stiles is an asshole sometimes, so he says, "Yes. Maybe I would."

Peter winces, then covers it with a smile. "Well. I suppose that wraps up this conversation nicely, pleasant as it was." And with that he turns and walks away, back toward the witch's house.

Stiles is left standing on the sidewalk, as conflicted as ever.

* * *

"What is it with creepy werewolves coming in through my window at night?" Stiles asks before turning around in his desk chair to face Derek.

"I need to talk to you."

"Of course you do. So... talk," Stiles says. He looks at the clock. "You have ten minutes before my bedtime."

"There's a way to break the soulbond," Derek says.

Stiles can practically hear his heart pound. "How?"

"One of the bonded has to sacrifice his side of the bond," Derek says slowly.

"That sounds... remarkably easy. Too easy. Does Peter know about this?" Stiles asks.

"Peter is who told me about it," Derek says. "And it's simple, not easy."

"God, getting information out of you is like pulling teeth, I _swear_ ," Stiles says. "Why is it not easy?"

Derek scowls. "The sacrifice is complete," he says. "The bonded's soul gets sacrificed along with that end of the bond. It's the only way to keep the other person's soul intact."

"Okay. So it's not doable, then. Why are you telling me this?" Stiles asks curiously.

"Because Peter thinks it's something he has to do," Derek says.

Stiles blinks. There's no way Peter is that self-sacrificing. Except...

Stiles knows Peter now, heart and soul. He does have it in him to give, and with the bond playing havoc with his feelings toward Stiles, he might just think giving his soul, his _life_ for this is a good idea. Stiles groans. "Seriously? Where is he now?"

"In the forest," Derek says. "It has to be done where you were bonded together."

"He's already gone to do this and you're just telling me now?" Stiles asks angrily, already getting up and grabbing his hoodie.

"I wasn't sure you'd care," Derek says.

"Both of you are ridiculous," Stiles says. "Is that a werewolf thing or a Hale thing? Don't answer. How do I get to him in time? Geez, I've got to call Deaton in case he's already started, I need to know how to stop it. Damn it, Peter."

"I can drive you there, you can call Deaton on the way," Derek says.

"Good plan," Stiles says. Then he stops and looks at Derek. "And thanks. For telling me."

Derek scowls. Stiles knows he does this when he's uncomfortable, unable to deal with real human emotion. Maybe it's something they can work on, now that Stiles is in the pack.

"Right. Let's go, then."

* * *

Of course Peter's already started the sacrifice when Derek and Stiles find him. He's kneeling on the forest floor, chanting, and there's an unearthly light around him. 

"You _lunatic_ ," Stiles says, running to him and clapping a hand over Peter's mouth. Then he starts his own chant and feels his magic leap up at the call.

Peter's eyes are wide as he watches Stiles, and Stiles keeps his gaze locked on Peter's as he completes the counterspell. 

"You are the biggest idiot I've ever met," Stiles tells him seriously. Then he throws his arms around Peter's neck and holds on, so glad he hasn't lost him.

"You said you'd rather be dead," Peter says. Bewilderment and cautious hope trickle down the bond.

"And you _believed_ me?" Stiles asks incredulous. "You always know when I'm lying!"

Peter shakes his head. "Part of you must have felt that way."

"Yeah, a teensy tiny part that I'm going to shove down until it's nothing," Stiles says. "You're better than death. I promise." And then Stiles leans in and presses a kiss against Peter's lips.

Peter sighs, and Stiles picks up a feeling of contentment from him. The bond hums happily.

"I can't believe you were going to do this," Stiles says when he pulls away. Peter makes a moue of disappointment, but Stiles is on to his dirty tricks. The pout doesn't affect him at all. At least, not much.

"I can't believe you stopped me," Peter says.

"I don't want you dead," Stiles says.

"Are you sure?" Peter asks.

"Peter," Stiles says, touching his face, "You're stuck with me."

"I can live with that," Peter says, and he leans in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I love this 'verse already and I hope you do, too. Let me know what you think!


End file.
